


so how could i ever refuse?

by astrangepurplefairy



Series: the adventures of a wild sprace’s apartment [32]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Mamma Mia! References, Sprace Apartment AU, just a casual movie night, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 06:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20326522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangepurplefairy/pseuds/astrangepurplefairy
Summary: spot and race have a night in





	so how could i ever refuse?

**Author's Note:**

> hi my loves  
i hope you enjoy this installment, i know it’s not my best work. please read the important notice at the end.  
enjoy!! <333

“I have tonight off.” Race murmured, looking up at Spot across the table. One of their hands were entwined on the tabletop, and Spot’s thumb ran idly across the back of his hand.

“Oh?” Spot’s brow cocked. “You wanna go out?”

Race made a face. “Or... we could stay in?” He offered. “Watch a movie, do nothing, be couch potatoes...” He chuckled slightly. 

Spot laughed and raised their joint hands to kiss the back of Race’s palm. “Sure, bubba.”

Race grinned.

He collapsed on the couch almost exactly nine hours later, at seven at night, leaning into Spot’s side. A pizza box sat haphazardly on their coffee table, a scene of Mamma Mia! frozen on the TV. He carried a bottle of Pepsi in one hand, and two glasses in the other.

Spot cocked a brow. “Why is one of those a wine glass?” He laughed.

Race shrugged tiredly. “We’re out of regular glasses.”

“Alright.” Spot chuckled, taking the bottle out of Race’s hands and pouring a glass for them each. He took the wine glass for himself, twining one hand with Race’s, and Race kissed the side of his head.

“Press play, babydoll,” he murmured, leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza. 

Spot did as told, and they sank into the movie, pizza and drinks in hand as they cuddled into each other’s sides.

—

“You know, why don’t they just get a DNA test?” Race slurred from his place sprawled across Spot’s chest.

“Because, the whole point of the movie is that it doesn’t matter who her biological father is, they’re all her father in spirit.” Spot responded, just as sleepy.

Race made a face. “In spirit? None of them are dead.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, though.”

Spot snorted and tugged gently on a lock of Race’s hair, shaking his head.

—

“Meryl Streep is an icon.” Spot mumbled in disbelief. “She’s literally a staple of perfection. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t love Meryl.”

“I would let her punch me.” Race said casually, nodding.

Spot threaded his fingers through Race’s hair. “Do you think she has a solid punch?” 

“Hell yes.”

—

“Where did Sophie’s friends go?” Race asked, near the middle of the movie.

“They’re there.” Spot assured.

“Are they though?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Race made a face. “They were only important for one song, even though they were in, like, the first scene, and then they just disappeared.” He glanced up at Spot, pouting slightly. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“Are you really stressed about Alli and Lisa, right now?” Spot snorted.

“I didn’t even know those were their names!” Race objected, throwing his hands up. “It’s like, they’re just there, like the weird guy who’s in love with Tanya.”

Spot chuckled and smoothed down Race’s wild hair, kissing the top of his head. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”

Race mockingly narrowed his eyes at Spot, and then leaned up to kiss him. “I do, actually.”

Spot laughed and pushed Race’s face away.

—

“I honestly don’t care what you say, S.O.S. is the best song in the movie.” Spot said plainly, shrugging.

“That is a blatant lie.” Race stared up at him. “Are you forgetting Slipping Through My Fingers?”

“You trash panda, you think that’s better than S.O.S.?”

“It’s mother-daughter bonding!” Race objected, smirking as he lifted himself onto his elbows to stare incredulously down at his fiancé.

“It’s froo-froo.” Spot made a face, his nose scrunching up, and Race snorted.

“Do not say froo-froo.” He laughed, eyes crinkling up.

Spot stuck his tongue out. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He retorted, and Race flicked his forehead lightly. Spot made a noise of objection, so Race pressed an apology kiss to the same place, wrapping his arms tightly around Spot’s shoulders. Spot flattened his hands on Race’s spine and pulled him close.

A moment of silence passed as Sophie and Sky fought on the screen, and then Race spoke.

“Slipping Through My Fingers is superior.”

—

Race was asleep on Spot’s chest by the time the movie was over, and Spot was humming Waterloo quietly, to himself, as he shook his fiancé’s—God, he’d never tire of that—shoulder.

“Baby,” Spot murmured, and pecked his lips sweetly. “Babe, movie’s over.”

“Nfgh?” Race managed, pupils moving under his eyelids but eyes not yet opening.

“We gotta go to bed, love.”

“No.” Race groaned, and wrapped Spot’s body in a death grip. “Don’t leave.”

Spot snorted. “You’re coming with me.”

“Sleep... on couch,” his voice drifted back into that slur between asleep and awake, so Spot shifted and pinched his side. “Ouch!” Race exclaimed, peeling his eyes open.

“Great, now we can go to bed.” He laughed, kissing Race’s forehead.

Race grumbles, “I can’t. I’ve lost the use of my legs.”

Spot stared at him. “Are you really going to make me carry you?”

“Yes.” Race deadpanned, and then gave a cheeky grin as his eyes slid shut again.

A sigh, and Spot sat up with Race still clinging to his torso, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. Race weighed, at most, a hundred and twenty pounds, so it wasn’t exactly intense exertion to carry him, but Spot was exhausted and Race was not helping him in any way.

“Waterloo,” Race hummed into Spot’s shoulder. “Couldn’t escape if I wanted to...”

“Oh, Jesus.” Spot chuckled. “You’re going to be singing that for a week.”

He could feel Race’s smile. “Yup.”

Spot pushed their bedroom door open with his foot, lying Race down on the mattress and pulling his socks off his feet. Race struggled with shrugging his shirt off his body, and by the time Spot slid into bed beside him, he’d kicked the jeans from his legs and tossed them halfway across the room. He was still humming Waterloo under his breath.

Spot pulled Race against his chest, utterly used to Race’s forever-icy skin, and ran a hand through his blonde hair.

Race mumbled something unintelligible. “What?” Spot murmured, looking down into his fiancé’s face.

His eyes were shut, but he still murmured, “Finally facing my Waterloo, woah woah woah—“

Spot snorted and kissed Race’s brow. “For the love of God, just sleep.”

“So how could I ever refuse, I feel like I win when I...”

And Race was asleep, face tucked into Spot’s neck, arms wrapped around his fiancé’s waist.

Spot just grinned and shut his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER IMPORTANT MESSAGE PLEASE READ:
> 
> my dear beautiful people, you all mean the world to me. the support ive been shown over the past three days has genuinely been what i can only call beautiful and has made me cry tears of joy several times. mental health is always a difficult thing to deal with on the internet, because many people don’t understand and don’t try to, so thank you so much for doing all you can to do both. episodes do last around a week, so my next few installments may not be the greatest, but stick with me and ill figure it out. im back and im here to give you guys the content that y’all (for some reason) want.  
again, i can’t thank y’all enough, i love you vv much, stay happy out there.  
<333


End file.
